_Miss B._ Oh! you mean Mr. Handy?

_Sir Philip._ Yes.

_Miss B._ No; he did not.

_Sir Philip._ Then, whom did _you_ mean?

_Miss B._ Did you say lover? I--I mistook.--No--a young man called Henry
obtained the prize.

_Sir Philip._ And how did Mr. Handy succeed?

_Miss B._ Oh! It was so ridiculous!--I will tell you, papa, what
happened to him.

_Sir Philip._ To Mr. Handy?

_Miss B._ Yes; as soon as the contest was over Henry presented himself.
I was surprised at seeing a young man so handsome and elegant as Henry
is.--Then I placed the medal round Henry's neck, and was told, that poor
Henry--

_Sir Philip._ Henry!--So, my love, this is your account of Mr. Robert
Handy!

_Miss B._ Yes, papa--no, papa--he came afterwards, dressed so
ridiculously, that even Henry could not help smiling.

_Sir Philip._ Henry again!

_Miss B._ Then we had a dance.

_Sir Philip._ Of course you danced with your lover?

_Miss B._ Yes, papa.

_Sir Philip._ How does Mr. Handy dance?

_Miss B._ Oh! he did not dance till--

_Sir Philip._ You danced with your lover?

_Miss B._ Yes--no papa!--Somebody said (I don't know who) that I ought
to dance with Henry, because--

_Sir Philip._ Still Henry! Oh! some rustic boy. My dear child, you talk
as if you loved this Henry.

_Miss B._ Oh! no, papa--and I am certain he don't love me.

_Sir Philip._ Indeed!

_Miss B._ Yes, papa; for, when he touched my hand, he trembled as if I
terrified him; and instead of looking at me as you do, who I am sure
love me, when our eyes met, he withdrew his and cast them on the ground.

_Sir Philip._ And these are the reasons, which make you conclude he does
not love you?

_Miss B._ Yes, papa.

_Sir Philip._ And probably you could adduce proof equally convincing
that you don't love him?

_Miss B._ Oh, yes--quite; for in the dance he sometimes paid attention
to other young women, and I was so angry with him! Now, you know, papa,
I love you--and I am sure I should not have been angry with you had you
done so.

_Sir Philip._ But one question more--Do you think Mr. Handy loves you?

_Miss B._ I have never thought about it, papa.

_Sir Philip._ I am satisfied.

_Miss B._ Yes, I knew I should convince you.

_Sir Philip._ Oh, love; malign and subtle tyrant, how falsely art thou
painted blind! 'tis thy votaries are so; for what but blindness can
prevent their seeing thy poisoned shaft, which is for ever doomed to
rankle in the victim's heart